


A Man's Measure: Initiation

by sharehenstar



Series: A Man's Measure [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A Man's Measure #1, Epic Bromance, Firsts, M/M, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharehenstar/pseuds/sharehenstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can find the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man's Measure: Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my first foray into the world of BBC Merlin fan fiction. This series will mostly consist of standalone stories, each tying back to the theme that how Arthur treats Merlin (and, conversely, how Merlin treats Arthur) leads to both their one-of-a-kind friendship and the changes their interactions wrought on who they each become. Please enjoy!
> 
> "Speech"
> 
> Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)

**I: Initiation**

It began with, of all things, an apple.

(Actually, for accuracy's sake, it began with Merlin's first bitterly cold winter in Camelot and said warlock's irritating tendency—according to Arthur—to fall ill at the most inconvenient of times.)

Having just returned to Arthur from three weeks' illness-induced bed rest, Merlin found himself almost immediately relieved of the Crown Prince's breakfast platter by said already-dressed Crown Prince.

"Hungry, are we?" Merlin managed bemusedly, wracking his mind for any situations similar to this in his nine months of service.

(He also refrained from releasing the sigh of relief trying to bubble past his lips. That platter weighed _far_ too much.)

"Starving," Arthur replied blithely, setting it on his table and promptly starting to devour it.

"I doubt you even know the meaning of the word," Merlin muttered under his breath—because princes did not have to worry about bandits like Kanen on a yearly basis.

Any breakfast sounds ceased.

Curiously, Merlin glanced over at the prince from where he had begun making the older boy's bed.

Too-blue eyes focused in on Merlin, wrinkled brow and displeased pout prominent.

"I'm not the idiot here, _Mer_ lin. Of course I do!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Forgive me my presumptions, Your Highness, but you do not. Not truly."

The pout worked its way into a full-blown frown. "Stoke the fire, Merlin," spoken in a tone that brooked no argument.

Merlin sighed, nonetheless moving in that direction, "As you command, I obey."

"Only you could make that sound so sarcastic. I should have your head for that."

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Well, I can't very well put you in the pillory, now can I? You'd freeze to death."

"Isn't that the same outcome as beheading me?"

Arthur huffed, and to a bemused Merlin, it sounded suspiciously like a laugh, "Just build up the fire, Merlin, and stop your idiot jabbering."

"Yes, Sire."

It did not take long for Merlin, crouched in front of the fire and prodding the flames into a blaze, to become aware of a series of chills skittering up and down his spine. After a moment, an uneasy warlock realized that Arthur had, in fact, commenced staring at his back, completely disregarding his morning meal.

He started rather violently (and nearly knocked the poker stand over in the process), when Arthur broke the silence between them with an abrupt, "How often has Ealdor been raided, Merlin?"

Sighing, Merlin straightened, satisfied by the blaze of warmth at his front, and moved to empty the brazier of its contents, before realizing the soot would transfer to Arthur's sheets, and aborted the attempt, choosing instead to resume making the prince's bed. He tugged the coverlet straight and retorted in clipped tones, "Twice a year—once during the early spring, and once again just before the harvest. It's…difficult to find food sometimes, if we don't store enough of it."

"…I see."

Arthur's quiet response had Merlin quirking an impertinent eyebrow at his back, but when no follow-up remark came from the prince as he resumed eating, Merlin shrugged and completed his morning chores.

"Is that all, my Lord?" he asked, once finished.

Arthur only waved him off—rather distractedly—and stared contemplatively into the fire's flames.

Merlin huffed softly, unable to prevent a brief frown from flickering across his features. In the end, he decided to quickly duck into the corridor, lest Arthur come up with yet _another_ job for his servant to complete (it had happened before, more times than Merlin thought fair).

After all, what concern of _his_ was it whether Arthur wanted to share his burden?

IOIOIOIOIOI

As it turned out, that day Merlin learned he had a horrible tendency to underestimate Arthur.

In his mind, the older boy remained a Royal Prat, but moments existed when Arthur—like Merlin—surprised his coin's other half, and the apple that near-nailed Merlin's head upon entry into Arthur's rooms later that day did exactly that.

Luckily, luncheon was much lighter than breakfast and a quick wrist flick allowed Merlin to cleanly grab the fruit Arthur had lobbed at his head in mid-air.

After a moment of bewildered staring, Merlin finally rolled his eyes. This had happened before, far too many times. To be fair, however, Arthur usually only tossed a goblet or plate at him when in a fit of temper.

The smug grin adorning the prince's face seemed to contradict that fear.

"Knew you weren't as clumsy as you like to make me believe. What do you take me for?"

"An infuriating prat," Merlin returned dryly, making his way cautiously towards the prince's table, lest said prince decided to lob something else—namely something a great deal _heavier_ —at his head.

When Arthur did nothing more than huff a laugh—an actual _laugh_ —and seat himself there, Merlin felt brave enough to venture brazenly, "Target practice, my Liege? Surely there must be more effective ways of alleviating your boredom than attempting to assassinate your poor, unsuspecting manservant— _with an apple_ , I might add."

"Ooh, big words, _Mer_ lin! Are you certain you know what they mean?"

Unable to help himself, and a little startled by the warmth flooding his chest, Merlin barked out a short laugh.

Surely only the mixture of firelight and cold sunshine had tricked him into believing that Arthur's face appeared to glow at his sudden laughter.

"Your luncheon, your Prattiness," Merlin retorted warmly, sketching a mock-bow as he placed the platter on the table.

When he tried to hand over the apple, as well, Arthur's hands suddenly cupped around his own and stopped him.

"That's yours," Arthur countered shortly.

Merlin's eyes widened, his prince's name (funny, he had never really thought of Arthur as _his_ prince before) falling automatically from his lips, "Arthur…?"

Most masters did not treat their servants this way.

When a startled Arthur jerked his head up, Merlin belatedly realized that most _servants_ never addressed their _masters_ by their first name, either, least of all if that master was the _Crown Prince of Camelot_.

Before Merlin could force out a (likely botched) apology, Arthur roughly withdrew his hands and averted his eyes to the bowl in front of him, half-barking out, "Oh, stop gawping like an idiotic _fool_ , _Mer_ lin! I'm sure it's _bruised_ , and _I'm_ certainly not eating it if it is. It would be a waste just to _throw it away-_ "

But the apple wasn't bruised and, in fact, it looked to be one of the best of the lot that adorned Arthur's fruit bowl at the center of the table. Furthermore, Arthur's hands fidgeted uncomfortably in his lap and he made no move to eat his stew, for all the intensity of his gaze could have re-boiled it had he that power.

"…Is this because of what I told you this morning?" Merlin demanded, the corners of his lips turning down.

He certainly didn't want _pity_ , if that were the case.

Arthur simply shifted in his seat, setting his jaw, "Not entirely," he muttered, a delicate pink hue adorning his cheeks.

Merlin blinked.

Oh.

As yet more color crept into the prince's cheeks, Merlin abruptly grinned.

 _Oh_.

"You were _worried_ about me," stated. With absolute conviction.

Arthur sputtered, appalled, jerking his head up, and cheeks awash with red, "I was _not_!"

Merlin laughed, feeling suddenly exceedingly happy, realizing for the first time that they _might just be able to do this_ , "You were! You _absolutely were_! Oh, Arthur," and he liked the way that sounded, the way it _felt_ to be able to call the prince by his given name, "three weeks of illness are horrible, it's true, but it's not like I was _dying_."

Arthur's flinch at 'dying' did not go unnoticed.

"Certainly, it doesn't prevent me from _dressing_ you-"

"—I woke up early!"

" _Or_ carrying a platter-"

"—I was hungry!"

"And Gaius certainly wouldn't allow me to waste _away-_ "

"—I told you, it's _bruised_ —I'm not going to eat it! Besides, I'm not all that-"

" _You_ were _worried_ ," Merlin accused him merrily, chuckling softly at Arthur's expense.

With a quiet huff and cheeks ablaze, Arthur appeared to give up their argument as a lost cause and moved to grab his spoon.

Merlin, smug in his victory and near-drunk on the knowledge that somewhere beneath that prat-ish exterior, Arthur really _did_ care about his hapless manservant, daringly brushed his free hand gently against the other boy's arm, "Thank you, Arthur," he murmured, sincerely.

The touch was fleeting, but encouraging enough to allow Arthur to raise his head and shoot Merlin a disgruntled scowl, waving him off, "Dismissed."

Unable to quite bite back his grin, Merlin swept Arthur the first genuine bow he had ever given him and ducked out into the corridor.

If both boys went around that afternoon with bright smiles, Gaius might suspect and Uther puzzle, but no one else was the wiser.

_End Initiation_


End file.
